All I Want Is To Share My Dnd Campaign Ideas With My Friends! I Want To Share The Things I Love With

I put the spinach in a smoothie. The whole thing tastes like spinach. Life was a mistake

I did NOT need to be called out like this. Yes, I spent this morning eating spinach directly from the bag. I do not understand what to do with spinach. I know I am supposed to eat it so I will take it like medicine. I am glad to know I am not alone in this experience

Baron is returning?! Absolutely horrifying. Cannot wait

Never say that Lou Wilson doesn’t commit to the bit. He could have had Fabian vomit in front of his friends. Instead he shit his pants so hard that it flew at the teacher in front of his whole class. Commitment to the bit

In an alternate universe where they go back to their canon timelines after the quangle, in the moment that Liam sends Preston to help Lapin, does he think about that weird day where an orange fairy told him Preston would die? As he watches the axe come down, does he wonder if there was another option? Does he wonder if Preston’s death is his fault?

Life is hard and it’s raining and there’s too many books to read. It will be okay

Listen, do I ship Riz and Fabian? Absolutely not. Riz is aroace. However, something distinctly queer is happening here. Comphet much? Fabian continuously bringing up The Ball instead of getting his kisses in. I mean come on.

they should have me on the complicated women podcast

i keep thinking about how rfk said that autistic people "will never write a poem." i keep thinking about that, about if humanity is calculated on the back of old verse. how far we measure personhood is in baseball and stanza breaks.

i keep thinking - i have over 7k poems on here alone. language can be a special interest, after all. did you know the word autism comes almost direct from the greek word autos, meaning "self"? self-ism.

maybe he is right - i haven't really played baseball. i was a ballet dancer instead. and besides - my sister once accidentally hit me in the face with an aluminum bat. i'm not sure if the injury gives me half points. am i only a person in the dugout? hand in a mitt? swinging?

does softball count? does cricket? am i a person if i throw the ball to my dog. am i a person as long as the ball is in the air, or do i stop being a person as it rolls into the bushes. i took my girlfriend to fenway recently; was i a person in the sun, with my hands up, with the game laid out at my feet in a diamond. i felt like a person, but that was back in the summer, and i often feel my most person-like then.

am i more of a person because of the sheer number of things i've written? does quality matter, or is it quantity? i used to write entire books every summer in high school - i wasn't doing well. i felt the least like-a-person back then. but then - does any person feel human in high school?

in the library, ink on my skin, i feel personhood shutter at the edges of myself. actually, writing feels blissfully like not being myself. it feels birdlike; escaping into creation so my body dissolves and i survive only by muscle memory. i am not there, i am writing.

but who can deny the falconlike focus of warsan shire, the tenderness of mary oliver, the sheer skill of amanda gorman. those are poets. they are certainly human. you could line them up with the way their words have influenced us and measure their literary shadows like wings.

perhaps it was very assumptive of me to want to be a poet rather than "a [ label ] poet." i wanted the work to fill itself in, rather than be stained by what i am. i do not write in despite of my neurodivergence, i am just neurodivergent and writing.

does the poem have to be in english or can i send it through my palms into the coat of my dog. does the poem have to make sense. does the poem have to love you back.

if i break a glass, will the poem appear naturally? or is the act of breaking the glass human-enough. the shards of my life glittering out beneath me - do i have to write the poem, or is it self-evident in the pile of glass splinters? i cannot grasp this world the way other people can. regardless, i endeavor to touch - even the mess - very gently.

i broke my toenail against my coffee table recently. i released a bug outdoors. i made coffee. i walked my dog.

i didn't write a poem about any of these things.

something else, then. existing without humanity.

Straight British Kristen Applebees is my new favorite character. I am in love with her. Unfortunately for me, she is straight.